Chuck Versus A Life Lost
by Steampunk.Chuckster
Summary: Sarah is concerned that Chuck hasn't properly grieved over the death of his father. Charah. Canon. Post-season 3 finale.


**A/N:** Oh, hello. Hiiii. Hey, it's me. It really is. I know. I know I know. It's been so long. Yes. Yes, it has.

So I won't bore you all with too many words.

To those of you still here, I thank you from the bottom of my still-Charah-filled heart. To you new readers, WELCOME. Thanks for swinging by. Please stay. Please. I'M BEGGING YOU! Haha. No really...stay.

 **Disclaimer:** "Chuck" owns me. Er...I mean. I...I don't own "Chuck". Not a lick of it. If I did, we'd have more than 5 seasons, I'll tell you _that_ much.

...please don't hate me.

* * *

It was strange how quiet everything seemed this early in the morning. The sounds were somehow muted, the colors a little duller. And after a string of days that had been blessed with such beautiful weather.

Sarah slowed a little at the crosswalk and paused at the curb, trotting in place for a moment before stopping altogether.

She didn't need to stop. Her lungs weren't burning, in spite of the cool air around her. Her limbs weren't aching.

But she stopped anyways.

She'd spoken to him here. It was one of the first long talks they'd shared. And there weren't all that many, honestly. If only the one.

Chuck and Ellie had been busy in the kitchen back at the apartment and their dad had haltingly asked Sarah if she might like to go for a quick stroll around the block with him before dinner.

She'd been reluctant, but hadn't let it show on her face, especially with the subtle look Chuck probably didn't know he was sending her from over the bar, the dishtowel draped over his shoulder.

And as they'd headed out, Stephen wearing one of Chuck's Stanford sweatshirts and Sarah in a leather jacket, he'd tentatively set a hand on her upper back.

He'd told her about some of Chuck's quirks that he remembered. They had even laughed together when Stephen told her about Chuck being sent home from school when he was twelve because he somehow made the cursor on the screens of all of the library computers into Japanese katanas. Of course the teachers and administrators had thought of it as a threat and tried to suspend him. But, as Stephen had explained to her as they strolled along the sidewalk in Echo Park, he and Chuck had just watched Kurosawa's _Rashomon_ and the little nerd had become a huge fan of Japan—their film, music, history…

Sarah had learned so much about Chuck during those thirty minutes she'd spent with his father, and she'd never quite seen the man so lively as he spoke of his children. His speech was still a little halting, his words caught behind his lips a few times, the struggle to get out what he was trying to say furrowing his brow. But he'd looked so happy.

Towards the end of the walk, as they saw the gate to her home in the distance, Stephen had stopped and turned to her, his eyebrows knit in worry and thoughtfulness.

"I need to—I need to ask you a favor. It's a pretty big one. But if anybody's up to the task, it's you, Sarah."

She stuck her hands in the pockets of her coat a little nervously, having been afraid things would turn serious at some point when he first asked her to join him. "Sure. What is it?"

"Look, I—I love my kids. I know I'm probably the worst father you've ever met…" Not the worst, she thought to herself. Because at least Stephen had some sort of excuse. And he cared. Her own father simply…didn't. At least…not enough. And he didn't even bother having an excuse.

"Thing is," Chuck's father continued, "I need to know that they'll be okay. In case…" He cleared his throat and fidgeted. "In case I have to disappear and I can't—can't come back. That's the reason I stayed away all this time, you know? I didn't want to come back and have to go away again. They got so used to not having me around and I thought it'd just be…tougher, if-if I kept appearing and-and disappearing. But Chuck found me and…" He sighed.

"Well, he wanted to find you," she said, squinting off down the street. Then she turned her gaze back to him, scuffing the toe of her boot on the sidewalk a little uncomfortably. "But I'm the one who actually found you."

"Really?" A strange look came over his face, something peaceful. It was just the hint of a smile. And then he put his hands in his slacks pockets and made a soft "Huh" sound.

"What?" she prompted.

"Wouldn't have expected a-a CIA agent to-to do something like that. For an asset. That's all. You just seemed like the typical spy in a lot of ways and not quite as…"

"Human?" she asked, feeling self-conscious suddenly.

He scoffed a little and shook his head. "I am well-practiced with the CIA and how they shape their best agents to suit their needs, Agent Walker—er, Sarah. Even then I knew you were different. Just like my—Well, I just knew. That's all. But it's still surprising that you broke so many rules to look for me. I hid pretty well. You-you had to do things under the table. So to speak."

"I've broken a lot of rules for Chuck in the last few years." She paused, looked him straight in the eye, and added in a strong voice, "He is worth all of it."

"Oh. I know. He-He's special." He blinked a few times, rapidly. "Uh. S-So is Ellie. Ellie is, too. But Chuck has always been…extraordinary. In ways you couldn't possibly imagine. Hah. Even as a boy." And then he shook his head, getting back on topic, and he looked like he might reach out to touch her arm again, but he merely twitched and left his hands in his pockets. "I need you to protect him. Both of them, really. But Chuck's the one in a lot of danger. I'm sure he is a good spy. But this isn't—it isn't what we—what I wanted for him. I hate that this is his life."

"He's happy."

"He isn't safe!" he snapped. And then he shut his eyes and fidgeted again, blushing. "I'm sorry, i-it isn't—it isn't your fault." If only he knew how much it was her fault. "Chuck's always been stubborn, headstrong. Ellie, too. Nobody can talk either of them out of anything ever."

"Trust me, I know." She widened her eyes humorously at him and he sniffed out a soft chuckle.

"Please protect him, Sarah. Agent Walker. No…No. Sarah," he decided emphatically. "You're his girlfriend. He loves you."

"I love him."

"I know you do. I can tell. Even a year ago, I saw…I saw something. It made me think of—Well, that doesn't matter. I was afraid of it then. Afraid that Chuck would—would get his heart broken. Or do something stupid to—Oh, I don't know, try to protect you or something." She couldn't help but smile at how well Stephen seemed to know his son, even if Chuck didn't think so. Maybe because he used to be just like him? Before the Intersect had scrambled his brain a little.

"But now I'm just glad," he said. This time he did put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad, Sarah. I saw firsthand how capable you are of protecting him. In my cabin, you—The way you threw that axe was just unbelievable." He shook his head in awe.

Sarah ducked her head and pushed her hair behind her ear. There was nothing really she could say to that without the words getting caught in her throat. She still had nightmares about that moment, visions of what might have happened if she'd mistimed the throw. If she hadn't reacted when she did. If she didn't think to grab that axe before she went inside.

"I-I wish he wasn't in this life. But-But I get why he is. I couldn't stay out, either. Believe me, I tried. There just always seem to be…people I can't leave behind." His eyes clouded a little, narrowing as he looked off to the side. "I just hope he does the right thing when the time comes."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He didn't seem to hear her, shifting his weight a few times, turning to look at their destination. "We should get back. Think dinner's probably ready."

Sarah walked the rest of the way back to her apartment now, glancing at her watch. She knew now what he'd meant by that.

Stephen had run away from his family, away from everyone he loved, because he was trying to protect them. He was trying to keep Chuck and Ellie off of the government's radar. (Thanks to Bryce, it hadn't worked for long.)

With Chuck downloading the Intersect 2.0, and with the damage Stephen must have known that would cause his son, both to his brain and to the life he was trying to build, he saw Chuck heading down the same path he'd gone. And he saw his son having to run, just like he'd had to.

He'd even been Chuck's getaway car when he did run. She'd been so distraught, in disbelief, terrified out of her mind as Chuck kissed her and jumped into his dad's truck. She'd wondered if she would ever see him again. She'd been drowning in fear that this was the last time, that he'd disappear forever in a foolishly selfless attempt to keep her safe.

She'd barely paid Stephen J. Bartowski any mind.

And that had been the last glimpse she had of him alive. His face harried, terror for his son in every last feature, determination hardening his eyes. "You have to choose. Who do you wanna protect? You or her?"

Sarah pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, feeling the ache behind them.

And she slowly walked through the courtyard and took her key out of her spandex sports bra to open the door. She'd seen Morgan leave for work when she was in the kitchen before her run, so she knew he wasn't home.

But Chuck was in there…probably still asleep. Big Mike had given him a few days to process, plan his father's funeral, and grieve appropriately. The Buy More manager's voice was so powerful that she'd heard the entire phone call in spite of it not being on speaker-phone. The man was gentle and kind, however, going out of his way to call Chuck and make sure he was okay when Morgan gave him the news about Stephen's passing.

As Sarah wandered into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind her, she thought that Chuck must still be asleep. He wasn't in front of the TV where he'd spent most of his time the last few days. Nor was he standing in front of the fridge with the door open, staring into it numbly like she'd seen him do a few times ever since Shaw killed his father in front of him.

Chuck still went to Castle with her, did paperwork, fiddled with the computer systems, spent a few hours in the gym while she worked. But she wasn't sure if he was processing or not. That quiver in his voice when Shaw shoved him into the back of the prisoner transport vehicle, the redness in his eyes, the look of disbelief and anguish—that had been the most reaction she'd seen from him so far.

Maybe he had let it all out when she wasn't around. But she hadn't really allowed herself to leave his side all that much since everything happened. He was Chuck. He was _her_ Chuck. She knew him. And she knew how he wore his heart on his sleeve. About almost everything. And he was hurting. He had to be going through so much pain. Nightmares. The memory of what he'd seen that day, stuck in his mind, as fresh as the day it had happened.

And that was why she'd kept close, convincing him to join her when she went to the grocery store, and sitting with him on the couch while he watched the Gunsmoke marathon on TV the other day, as boring as it had been. He'd just slumped over and put his head on her lap, letting her play with his hair as they watched in silence.

She heard it as she walked down the hallway. It was so soft, she thought maybe she'd imagined it at first.

But no.

As she silently pushed open the door, she spotted Chuck sitting at the end of their bed, his feet flat on the floor, his hands pushed into his hair. His shoulders were shaking. And she immediately knew what the sound she heard was.

"Chuck…" she breathed, her chest aching.

He whipped around to look at her, his eyes bloodshot, tears streaking down his face, his lips pressed tightly together as he fought to compose himself. "Sorry. I—"

But his voice caught in his throat, and he looked so frustrated as he angrily ruffled his own hair and slammed his hand down on the mattress beside his hip, turning his face away and letting out a soft, coughing sob.

Sarah wasn't nervous or uncomfortable like she usually was when people showed intense emotions around her. In the past, she'd always looked for the quickest way out of the room when people were upset, when people cried especially. Emotions were…awkward. Nerve-wracking.

She reacted immediately, her heart in her throat, making her feel like an aching lump was lodged there. In moments she was kneeling on the bed next to him, wrapping her arms around his head and pulling him into her chest.

Chuck didn't resist. He wrapped his arms around her and clung, slouching over to bury his face in her shirt, crying even harder. He looked and felt so small as she squeezed him tighter, pressing her lips against his hair and just holding on like her life depended on it.

She felt a tear run down her cheek and she didn't make any move to wipe it away.

With a soft sniffle, she rubbed her hand over his back with a reassuring, "It's okay." She tried to swallow the lump in her throat but it didn't go away. "It's okay, Chuck. Let it out. I'm here." She tightened her hold on him and kissed his head. "I'm here," she whispered. And he squeezed her body close, wordlessly telling her she was exactly what he needed right then.

His sobs eventually died down, and still he didn't budge.

And then, finally, he slowly lifted his face from her chest and slotted it into the crook of her neck, nuzzling her skin there with his nose. "It isn't fair," he said, his voice broken, even if the tears had stopped for now. "I chose this life. I brought him back into it when he was—he was safe before. I pulled him back. And now he's gone."

"Chuck, it isn't your faul—"

"It _is_ my fault," he said, his voice a little stronger. He stayed buried in her neck, still clinging. She didn't like this. She didn't like how sincerely he was blaming himself for his father's death. It made her uncomfortable. It made her angry. She hated this. Hated how easy it had been for Shaw to strip Chuck of so much.

"It's _Shaw's_ fault, Chuck. Not yours. He did all of this."

She felt him shake his head and sniffle softly. It hurt everything inside of her to hear that sound coming from him. To know he was in pain that she couldn't even empathize with. She'd never watched someone she loved die in front of her. She'd killed plenty of people, she'd watched partners go down, feds, criminals. But she'd never seen a bullet rip through the chest of someone she loved.

And of course her brain—which loved to punish her more often than not—went back to that night in Paris, when she was standing on the bridge, fighting unconsciousness, unable to move to protect Chuck when Shaw raised the gun to shoot him. What if Chuck hadn't shot first?

The pain in her chest that she'd felt that night, the fear that she was about to watch him die, it all came back. And the tears flowed faster. She held him even tighter, so tight that her fingers began to ache, and she pressed her face into his hair.

"I wish I'd never found him again," he said, swallowing thickly. "If I hadn't, he—"

"You wouldn't have the governor, Chuck." She turned her head to look at it on his wrist. He rarely took it off, even when he was asleep. It was Stephen Bartowski's legacy. His last gift to his only son. And the one thing that was potentially keeping Chuck sane.

"And Fulcrum wouldn't have captured him and forced him to build the Intersect 2.0…"

"Chuck. Stop it. Okay?" She pulled back a little bit and cupped his chin, forcing him to look up at her. God, he was so vulnerable, so obviously hurting, guilt pouring out of his beautiful brown eyes, and she hated everything but him in that moment. "Listen," she breathed. "You got your father back for awhile. And it was good. Wasn't it? Connecting with him again?"

"Yeah. But was it worth it? Was it worth him being killed?"

"He'd say it was."

He looked at her for a long while.

"I didn't know your dad all that well, Chuck. But I read people. And he was pretty easy to read. Just like you are." She gave him a watery smile and gently stroked her fingers down his cheek, tracing his jaw slowly. His eyelids fluttered and she felt her heart ache in the best way. "Your dad would've said it was worth it. Seeing you and Ellie again. The family dinners. Destroying Morgan at Halo that one time."

Chuck let out a laugh that made her feel like sunshine had flooded their bedroom, filling it with warmth. "He was so happy and Morgan was trying so hard not to be mad."

She chuckled and smiled widely as Chuck shifted to press his forehead against hers.

"I miss him," he whispered. "I missed him before. When he just…disappeared. I missed him then. Because he wasn't here. But then I at least knew he was _somewhere_. And now he's—I watched him leave. For good. No coming back. No tracking him down using my genius super spy girlfriend."

Sarah gave him a half smile and put her hand on his neck, her thumb stroking his jaw. "He's somewhere, Chuck." And in spite of it always sounding so cheesy and stupid in the movies, she said it because she knew Chuck would benefit from hearing it. "He's with you. Still watching over you in that semi-creepy cyber stalker way of his."

Chuck laughed again and she beamed at him.

They didn't say anything again for awhile, and Sarah kicked her running shoes and socks off of her feet, scooting up the bed and pulling Chuck with her. They snuggled up against the pillows and he burrowed himself in her, curling his body around hers, laying his head on her chest. They held one another in silence until she felt his tears wetting her shirt again.

She just shut her eyes and kissed his hair, letting him cry. And when he was finished again awhile later, she heard his quiet voice drift up to her ears. "Please, Sarah…don't ever leave."

Her heart felt like it had been turned to ice and slammed against a stone floor, shattering into a billion pieces. It ached horribly. "I'm not going anywhere, Chuck," she said into his hair, barely able to keep her voice from faltering. "I'm not leaving you. Not for anything."

"I couldn't take it."

She knew exactly what he meant. "I love you, Chuck," she said instead. And then she repeated the same words he'd said to her a few weeks earlier, when she'd handed him her spy will. "Nothing's gonna happen to you," she murmured, pulling him closer so that she could feel his sturdy, comforting weight press her down into the mattress. "You're not going anywhere. And neither am I."

Sarah felt his hand shift against her hip and slide under her shirt to feel the bare skin of her waist. His fingers were clammy, but she didn't mind. It was his way of letting her know that he recognized his own words, and that he recognized the meaning he'd put behind them then. She meant them just as much now.

He pushed himself up to hover over her just enough where he could look down into her face. "I love you."

In spite of everything, she smiled. It was a small smile, one full of melancholy and sadness. The world had lost a good man in Stephen J. Bartowski. And it had left Chuck Bartowski, an even better man, more broken than Sarah had ever seen him. All she could do was be here and hold him, let him take all of the strength she had. She would give him everything, every last part of her, whatever he needed to feel better.

And then she would do it all over again, if only he asked it of her.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm so sorry if this hurt you.

But there was cuddling. In my defense. Lots of tight, finger-numbing cuddling. You know the cuddling I'm talking about. NOT THAT CUDDLING, GET YOUR HEADS OUT OF THE GUTTER MY GOODNESS

-SC


End file.
